


The Rules

by orphan_account



Category: AFI
Genre: Angst, M/M, UST, crash love era, live show, onstage action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 21:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night it happens, everyone is pretty shocked. No one more than Davey himself, who is the one and only instigator of the unfortunate incident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rules

**Author's Note:**

> This is really old, so the formatting is probably fucked up. I wrote it on a plane following a very slashy show AFI played in New Hampshire (don't ask me what I was doing in New Hampshire, I don't even know). It was one of my first attempts at writing present tense, which is funny, because now I can't write in anything but present tense. Huh. I don't own them, some touching happened at that show, but not the touching that follows in this story. So it didn't really happen.

The night it happens, everyone is pretty shocked. No one more than Davey himself, who is the one and only instigator of the unfortunate incident. Or maybe Davey's just thinking for the whole lot, speaking for everyone and their mother the way he tends to do not just in interviews but in his head. Maybe no one is shocked at all. Maybe just him. 

And Jade, of course. But that goes unsaid. Jade probably thought he had the whole thing under control, the little bastard. 

Regardless of who else may or may not be up in arms, Davey is certainly shocked. Davey’s an impulsive person, sure, but not about this. Not about Jade. Probably because he might get his hands chopped off, or worse, his dick, if he ever slips up in any way to suggest what they do behind closed doors. Jade makes sure of that. Davey doesn’t ever want to risk fucking it up again, so he plays by Jade's rules onstage. If it’s a good night, then he’s allowed to make eye contact, allowed to drape an arm across the sweaty, shirt-cling of Jade's shoulders, allowed to get on his knees in front of him and wrap his lips around the microphone. If it’s a bad night, he better stay a good five feet away from him or else he'll never hear the end of it after the encore. Jade will be raving on about irresponsibility, discretion, how Davey has no regard for anyone else in the whole world save for his own half hard dick. Davey never questions the fairness of Jade’s system. It is a necessary evil.

Though sometimes it makes him bitter, makes him scream at Jade, call him a coward, then take it all back, beg again like he sometimes does. But Davey and Jade both know that if Jade ever decided he was ready to blow the cover already and come clean with the fans, Davey wouldn't go for it, no matter how much he bitches about Jade's rules. Truth of the matter is, neither of them are ready. Both of them are cowards.

In short, Davey likes to pretend he isn’t afraid of anyone’s reaction, but if Jade said, hey let’s just make out tonight during End Transmission tonight, Davey would be horrified. He’d freak the fuck out. Contrary to popular belief, even his own popular belief, he is comfortable with their little system. 

That's why this whole mess is so puzzling to Davey. Why he’s so shocked.

For example, New Hampshire? Why the hell New Hampshire? The night it happens they're not even in an epic city. The turnout is weak, the kids half consisting of high schoolers who won tickets from a radio station while listening after school or some shit. There are maybe fifteen people from the DF. Davey can't even tell you the name of the city, some vacated summer hot spot left barren with boarded windows, tumbleweeds, freezing ocean view from the venue. They've been requested to replace an older selection on the set list with one of the Decemberunderground singles, so the band has already resigned to a mediocre performance.

Maybe that's why Davey loses it. No one to impress, no one who cares, and the ones who do care...they care so much it might not even matter. After all, those fifteen kids have been waiting in the frigid New Hampshire tundra so long Smith let them in a few hours early, just to ensure no one in the Despair Faction actually dies tonight. The vibe at the show is already weird and Davey is worried about himself and his hyper-emotional state. Adam asks him if he’s PMSing after he gets all teary eyed during On the Arrow, to which he answers with a middle finger. 

It happens in a hardly memorable city. It happens during an unexpected song. There are a lot of AFI songs Davey has written about Jade, and if he’s going to pull something like this, he thinks it’ll happen during one of those tracks, but it doesn’t. Somewhere in the middle of the show, Davey snaps, gets so instantly angry that he cannot even begin to contain it inside his body, his voice. And he does this during Death of Seasons. Yeah, Davey pulls this shit at the very end of Death of Seasons. 

One second he's staring out at a sea of identical emo haircuts, flushed red faces, tears, sweat. Some who care, most who don't. The next second he’s homicidal. At jade and his fucking stupid rules, Jade who shrugs Davey's hand off and shoots him that warning glare across the guitar at the end of LSP2. Davey’s so used to it he might have even imagined it, but still. Why the fuck does Davey have to answer to this? Jade is his, and has been for what, close to a fuckin' decade give or take a few bad years spent apart. Why cant he just up and fucking...

But the truth of the matter was that Davey isn’t actually pissed off at Jade and his stupid rules. Davey is pissed of that he, himself, is still too scared and pathetic to even think about breaking them. Doesn’t even want to, maybe. So therein lies the truth. Davey can’t just up and fucking do it not because Jade won’t let him, but because he can’t let himself. 

And that shakes him to the core, makes him want to break his own safety down out of what, spite? Spite for himself? Why can’t Davey just up and fucking...

So then he does it. Just waltzes right over to where Jade is playing all bent over the neck of his instrument in concentration, mouth slack, skin shining. Davey trips him without a second thought, gets him in that weak spot in the back of his knee and watches him fuck up the chords, eyes flashing and fingers fumbling lamely all over the strings in a mess of electric wailing. Jade is on the ground in a second, trying to recover his melody. But Davey is still unable to think straight through his fury, and won't have any of it. He needs to prove something to Jade, to himself.

He supposes that's when he takes things too far. Too quickly his knees are on the ground and they’re tightening around Jade's toppled body, straddling him with one hand flat on his narrow chest. And Davey keeps right on screaming, his face raw and red and flush up against Jade's neck, voice ripping through both of them with all he’s fucking worth. He half expects silence, expects the rest of the band to drop their instruments in horror, the crowd to cease their shrieks and roaring. After all, he's just knocked his guitarist down to the fucking ground, curled in a ball on top of him and commenced the mostly acapella screaming part of Death of Seasons into his neck . If people didn't know before, they sure do now. Even though Davey’s not even technically doing anything. 

But no, quite on the contrary, the crowd goes wild. A few girls might even faint. 

An overwhelming sensation of relief washes over Davey at the sound of unconditional love, of acceptance. He could cry, right there on the already soaking collar of Jade’s shirt. Jade is flailing underneath him, franticly trying to kick him off. But he freezes at the sound too, limbs temporarily paralyzed. So that's what will happen if they tell the secret, blow the cover. Girls will faint. Davey's screams are wordless at this point, nothing more but a big painful spray of blood from his lungs leaking out onto Jade's shoulders. He thinks of LA's pollution, and so many lost years. He's not sure if he's even pissed at Jade anymore. He’s not sure he hates himself for being a coward.

He just knows the crowd is screaming, and he’s supposed to be screaming back, stars are supposed to be going cold. But Jade's mouth is on Davey's neck, teeth sharp and lips open and wet with maybe-tears. Not exactly the reaction Davey is expecting from any party involved.

Davey sort of forgets the microphone is still in his teeth, picking up the heaving half-sobs of relief and overwhelming adoration he has for those fifteen recently thawed out DF kids on the front row belting out a Strength through wounding. Jade is submissive and quiet underneath the weight of his body, breath labored, hands loose on Davey’s elbows. There are all the painful angles of a guitar pressed between them but no one seems to notice. Davey hobbles to a standing position, offering a hand to Jade and pulling him unsteadily to his feet, their eyes meeting for the briefest, most loaded second. Neither of them can read the other.

Davey smiles weakly to him, wipes his own saliva from the microphone on his shirt before clearly saying into it, “thank you.” Of course, the crowd goes wild. 

A few girls? They might have fainted. 

~*~

Shockingly, no one mentions it after the show. Not even Adam, who on multiple occasions has told Davey that if he really wants to keep things under wraps with Jade, he should try to grope him less in public. All that anyone says is a mutual, “Given the circumstances, that show went miraculously well.” Davey hears a variation of this sentence from Hunter, Smith, Reno, Fritch, and at least ten other roadies. He can’t tell if these “circumstances” they speak of are related to the stunt he pulled, or just the dead crowd, Gallows’ increasingly crappy flu, New Hampshire being a shithole. Davey can’t tell, and he won’t ask, seeing as he’s literally shocked himself into silence. 

Hunter and Adam are braving the coastal chill to greet fans as Davey and Jade finish the last of their pizza, stoic and very aware of how far apart their barstools are. Davey has been nibbling awkwardly at the crust, toying with the hem of his scarf and afraid to look at Jade, reverting back to how he was at twenty two, newly in love with him and terrified by the whole thing. The feeling of the crowd’s excitement, the Strength through Wounding, all of it has worn off and he’s back to a sinking stomach. Jade finally breaks the silence.  
“Don’t ever do that again.” He says, voice calculated and unreadable. Davey’s head snaps up, eyes narrowing.   
“I’m sorry.” He says quietly after a moment.   
“I could have hurt my back and you made me screw up that last part.”  
Davey stares at Jade, floored by the utter lack of words like irresponsibility and discretion. Jade hasn’t even reminded Davey that he has no regard for anyone else in the whole world save for his half hard dick. Davey’s mouth is slack with incredulity, mind racing to come up with a biting enough retort to what seems like apathy.   
“I really can’t take your passive aggressive bullshit right now,” is the only appropriate thing Davey thinks of.  
“Dave, come on, I’m not mad at you.”  
“I broke your rules.”  
“Fuck the rules.” Jade’s eyes lock hard onto Davey’s gaze. Davey can’t fucking believe him.  
“What?! You’re kidding me, you’re more scared of this than anything else in the world, you...you left because...you can’t just fuck the rules!” Davey hisses, forcing his voice down to stage whisper to prevent anyone from eavesdropping. Jade keeps looking at him in that begging way.   
“Maybe I’m done.”   
“Maybe you’re full of shit.”  
“Come on, Dave. Maybe I’ve been ready to quit this shit for awhile now. Maybe I’ve stopped caring about the rules but you still followed them.” Jade is looking up through his hair, eyebrows raised in this infuriatingly condescending way that makes Davey want to say, how dare you, and list all the times Jade bitched him out after a show for getting too close, too suggestive. But Maybe Davey doesn’t respond because he know Jade is right. Dead on. Curiously perceptive, the little bastard.   
Maybe now Davey is realizing Jade hasn’t given him shit since the last tour. Maybe Davey is remembering all the times Jade touched him onstage, followed him, dropped to his own knees, and Davey ignored or misconstrued it because of his own conception of how important the rules were. Maybe Davey is remembering how hard Jade tried at New Jersey, and how hard he pushed him away. Maybe Davey knew Jade was right all along, so he stays silent, feeling shamed.  
“We’re getting old.” Jade adds pleadingly like that has anything to do with anything.   
“Not that old. I still have a few years left of being dashing.” Davey is trying to change the subject, voice pathetic and frantic.  
“What I mean is that maybe it’s time to let go of some things.”

Rules. Closets. Systems. Davey doesn’t know what to say. Here is that moment he predicted when Jade is ready to come clean, and he realizes he is the true coward. But this is even worse because he has some kind of idea of how the fans would react, and he’s still a coward, still as terrified as he was at twenty two.   
“Why did you never say anything?” Davey’s voice is small, and he wishes his hair was long enough to hide behind again.   
“About what?” Jade’s voice is agonizingly gentle, quiet enough for the rules, the rules Davey now realizes are actually his, not Jade’s.   
“About coming clean.”  
“I don’t mean making a fuckin’ public announcement, just...hiding less. Making less of an effort.”  
“But why didn’t you say you were ready, and instead just let me go on thinking we were mutually fucked up?” Davey says miserably.  
“Because you weren’t ready.” Jade says softly. His hand is twitching like it wants to reach out and touch Davey, but refrains from force of habit. From respect for Davey’s comfort level. And really, Davey has nothing to say to that, so he just nods quietly, swallowing the lump in his throat.   
“We’re getting old.” Jade says again, like it’s urgent this time.  
“I know.” Davey’s voice is small. 

“Just think about it,” Jade adds as he slides off his barstool, leaning in to kiss Davey gently on his sand-paper cheek right where it gives way to the corner of his mouth. It’s just a fleeting brush of lips but still, fucking anyone could have seen. It was right there, in the still-milling venue. Davey panics as usual, but he tries to force it down, tries not to give into the skin crawl away from Jade he’s conditioned himself to, tries not to look shifty eyes over his shoulders. 

Maybe Davey will think about it. Maybe he’ll keep trying.

But for now, no one is more shocked than him.


End file.
